


cold, dead, defunct

by dogf1ght



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Depersonalization, Other, Science Experiments, gone wrong
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-10 09:03:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6976768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogf1ght/pseuds/dogf1ght
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Josh Dun is simply a creature, an animal, a science experiment gone horribly wrong.</p><p>“what do we do with him?” scientists asked, scratching their bald heads and thinning beards and scribbling things Josh Dun couldn’t read into small note pads that held poor Josh Dun’s future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. exanimate, adjective 1. inanimate or lifeless. 2. spiritless; disheartened.

Josh Dun is not human. never has been, never will be.

 

Josh Dun is simply a creature, an animal, a science experiment gone horribly awry.

 

“what do we do with him?” scientists asked, scratching their bald heads and thinning beards and scribbling things Josh Dun couldn’t read into small note pads that held the future of poor, poor Josh Dun.

 

a new scientist, a young blonde bombshell who was too sadistic, too smart, too cunning, to just get the job for her tits, walked into the lab one day with all the vigor of a snake. the clicking of her heels scared Josh, so much He was huddled to one side of His cage the entire time she was there. she tried to touch him, and He whined in protest.

 

“is he serving any purpose towards our experiments?” she questioned, her first and middle finger’s sharpened acrylic nails trilling against the glass on top of Josh’s cage. He whimpered in pain, even though she was nowhere near close to inflicting physical pain onto Him.

 

all the scientists shook their heads, even a nice strawberry blonde who used to give Josh small bites of his lunch when He was being fed too little to make it through the day.

 

she smirked then, and leaned down so that she could meet Josh eye to eye. if He looked down, stopped making eye contact, He could see she wasn’t wearing underwear.

 

“then we’ll do to him what we do to all the other failed experiments that are still alive,” she stood up and looked into the crowd of biologists, who were all too quiet to stand up to for the beloved creature. 

 

“release him.”


	2. spiritless, adjective 1. without spirit. 2. without ardor, vigor, zeal, animation, etc.: a spiritless reply to criticism.

when Josh Dun is released out into the outside world He has three things that define his identity: a tattoo behind His ear that labels Him as a government experiment released willingly by His captors (scientists), a laminated id (that He refuses to look at) that details who He is, and four scratches on His neck from the blonde woman who dropped Him off in a field twelve miles outside of town.

 

when His feet touch pavement for the first time after walking through a dark field for hours, the lights hurt His eyes more than people’s boots do. He’s scared, tired, but willing to accommodate to the change (at least, that’s what was written on His progress report when He finally developed a personality). He rolls with the punches, staying where He’s needed, and leaving where He’s not.

 

sometimes He wonders if they’re still watching him, still tracking His every move. He figures they don’t since the marks on His arm He decides to produce periodically normally would have them fretting to remove them, always mumbling about how it “ruins the research.” the fifth time He does it, he realises He’s probably free now. 

 

it’s strange, to be watched unendingly just for it all to abruptly stop, especially for Josh, who’s never been on His own, never been left to see things with His own eyes. 

 

He feels like one of the plants that were omnipresent on a windowsill in the lab, once they’re let out of their small pots. He’s finally free, growing upwards and outwards and breathing freely, so freely.

 

but those plants eventually had to die, had to make way for new plants that needed the sun. and Josh, oh Josh, does not want to make way for other plants. He wants his own space, wants to stay in His pot so He can prosper in His own space. 

  
so He settles down, finds a spot he can call His own, and does what He does best: stay hidden, and under the radar of everyone around Him.


	3. soulless, adjective 1. without a soul. 2. lacking in nobility of soul, as persons; without spirit or courage. Origin of soulless

_can you see Him?_

 

**_yes_ **

 

_are you sure?_

 

**_hundred percent_ **

 

_very good. keep Him there, in your line of sight._

 

**_i will ma’am. anything else you need for now?_ **

 

_you remember the tall bony one we’ve had in storage in columbus for while?_

 

**_uh...yeah._ **

 

_i want him._

 

**_now?_ **

 

_not immediately, we won’t need him for awhile. just keep him ready._

 

**_ready for anything specific?_ **

 

_oh no, keep him in Josh’s old cage for now, but we’ll need him soon._

 

**_how soon, ma’am?_ **

 

_soon enough._

 


	4. sterile, adjective 2. incapable of producing offspring; not producing offspring.

the woman's thin heels click against the pure white tile floors.

 

other scientists stay away from her, out of her path, worried for their livelihood. 

 

she's mad, they can all tell, her steps less agile and more as if she's trying to send her anger from her heart and into the ground below.

 

(although, as an intern notes, the soil underneath  _ is  _ almost ninety percent 

radioactive material and the bones of experiments gone wrong, but she decides not to comment.)

 

the head scientist’s white-blonde hair almost reflects the fluorescent light that coats the whole room at least three shades lighter than its original color, and the white lab coats look like lamps

against the white walls stained black to hide stains.

 

she stops moving once she reaches the end of the room, and stands in front of a strawberry blonde scientist, who is currently injecting a mysterious light green liquid into the thigh of a

rabbit who already looks deceased.

 

"you!" she screams upon realizing who he is. she's been looking for Him all day, and

she's tired of staring at her precious experiment through a fuzzy screen. "where is He?"

 

he's stunned for only a few second before he knows what she's talking about, knows she's

talking about Him. but the scientist knows close to nothing about Josh, let alone His location.

he tells her the truth, tells him what he knows about Him. 

 

(which, noted, is not much.)

 

“i-i….” he stammers out, trying to push the words from behind his tongue. “the last time i saw him was…”

 

the female scientist, whose stilettos were almost cracking the floor under them, promptly grabs glass full of (what the scientist hopes is just) water, and throws the object at the wall to the left of them)

 

glass rains down onto the cage below it, shards of glass falling to dark dirt. another scientist sighs, knowing that she’s going to have to be the one to clean it up before it dissolves into the roots and  _ another _ experiment is destroyed.

 

as soon as the last drip of liquid hits the floor, the bleach blonde woman’s deep red acrylic nails (the color of envy and seduction) are wrapped around the male scientist’s throat. she restricts his breath, watching his panicked expression and tense muscles spread throughout his whole body, face turning blue and fingers convulsing. 

 

at one second before he loses consciousness, she lets go of his limp vessel, and he drops to the ground. she watches him, witnessing his oxygen-starved blood flush into his brain with nothing short of glee in her own blood, his purple lips turn back to pink, his ribs stop shaking with the sudden rush of air. 

 

no one moves in the laboratory, even the small experiments and ones who are normally jumpy stand still, even the sun seems to stop setting through the glass roof on the far side of the enclosed space. 

 

the female scientist leans down once the other scientist gives out one last cough before staggering back up. she looks down on him, cold stance sweeping chills throughout the room. 

 

within moments of the scientist finding his own stance, he’s back on the ground, a stiletto almost breaking skin as it pokes into the side of his neck.

 

“i need to know where He is, if if you don’t find out by the time i walk into  _ this _ lab tomorrow,” she kicks his side with the point of her toe. groans of pain fill the room as the standing scientist stares at him as if he was tea in a cup, her features mundane while her tone enraged.

 

she continues as she leans to put her red-painted lips (which reminds one of the color of rage) to his ear. “i will make your disappearance look like an accident.”  


End file.
